Dissociative Psyche ✦ J. Riley | ✓ [book 2]

16~ Prosperity Makes Monsters

"Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters."

~ Victor Hugo

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Not even ten minutes later, every cop, receptionist and janitor was outside in the chilled spring air, standing across the block from two officers in marshmallow suits. They watched tentatively as they worked through the box, putting it through every precaution. When they were finished, one of the chiefs came over to them, looking slightly relieved.

"We x-rayed it, it's not a bomb," he said.

"What's the bad news?" Lex asked.

The chief looked to the side, seeming a little squeamish as he looked at the box, "You're going to want to check this out,"

Jake and Lex looked at each other, something told the both of them that whatever was in that box would give them nightmares to last the week. The box was sitting on top of a police car, the precinct address was marked in black sharpie -- along with Jake's name in capital letters.

"It's for me," he huffed.

"You'll want this," the chief handed him a box cutter. Jake sliced the packing tape off the top of the box, opening it to find two cylinder blocks, and a human hand.

"Looks like we solved the mystery of Detective Cassick's missing hand," he said.

Everybody crowding around him had the need to look away, but also the instinct to see just what the note the hand had had to say. Jake reached inside, holding his breath as he pulled out the blood-stained paper. He unfolded it, and what he read made his blood run cold.

"Working to keep others safe, when you can't even keep Jenna safe... ?" he read aloud, "What does that even mean?"

As if on cue, his phone pinged. The note was suddenly forgotten as he pulled it out, finding a text from Jenna:

SOS!

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It was like something out of a horror movie. 300 kids were suddenly crouching down behind chairs and desks, the lights turned off so it was pitch black. The only light source they had were the distinct glow from their smartphones, texting, tweeting, letting everybody know what was going on. A man with a gun had entered the campus, and it seemed he was on a spree. Shots were going off every fifteen to twenty seconds, each one making Jenna's heart race faster and faster.

"Is he going to come in here?" Lorraine whispered.

"Professor Wilby locked the door," another student replied.

"He's got a gun. That's not going to last long," someone else said.

"Sh!" Jenna snapped at at them, "Just hunker down and start texting. But don't let 'em know where we are!" 

"Why?" the second student asked.

"Because this is the twenty-first century. Even dogs have their own Instagram accounts," the third replied.

"Sh!"

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Like a straight shot, cruiser after cruiser was rampaging down the street to the university. Jake kept calling and calling, but Jenna wasn't picking up.

"She's not answering," he panted.

"Maybe she can't," Lex said.

"What does that mean?"